


You Must First Invent the Universe

by orphan_account



Series: Drabbles [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, apple nymph!Stiles, lumberjack!Isaac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is my tree. These my are trees.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Must First Invent the Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Lumberjackfritz requested “apples” and “lumberjack” and I thought “apple nymph!”
> 
> So, here ya go. Have some apple nymph!Stiles.
> 
> (Title comes from the quote, “If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.” — Carl Sagan.)

Isaac, should anyone ask, does not scream when a faintly green hand, the color of spring and hope, reaches out and plucks his ax from his grip with strong and thin fingers. One handed, too, whereas Isaac has to heave too much of his strength just to pick the damn thing up. It gives him an immediate complex, one that's shoved to a backburner as he traces the leafy veins in the spring green arm to an equally green face.

“You shouldn't.” The face tells him, and Isaac realizes that the torso of a young man, including the arm and hand that stole his ax as well as the face he's staring it, is protruding from the trunk of a tree. “This is my tree. These my are trees.” The voice is wispy and arrant but shaky. Like the thing is controlling itself, holding back.

“I'm sorry?”

This cracks the thing's forest-faerie attitude and the young man sighs, “dude, I freaking told Hale to back off. He's a werewolf, he freaking _knows_ this is my area.”

“Your area?”

The young man, with leaves fluttering on the edges of his jaw and chin and peeking out from behind his ears, looks unimpressed. “This is my forest.”

“Your forest.”

Another put upon sigh. “I'm a nymph, this is my land, no touchy.” The nymph holds out the ax again though, baring surprisingly sharp teeth in a warning. “You must be new.”

Isaac nods and swallows uneasily. “Uh, yeah, sorry. He told us to keep an eye out but he said you'd show up.” Isaac takes in what he can of the man's body—firm torso, covered in inky tendrils of green imprinted into his skin. “He didn't say you were a nymph though.”

The man grins, devilish and charming and oddly aloof, and snaps his fingers; in the blink of an eye, a Golden apple rests in his palm. “Apple nymph.”

Isaac looks around, suddenly awed. “These are _all_ apple trees?”

The man nods proudly. “My pride and joy.” He gestures to the endless stretches of thick tree trunks and rich bark. “I'm Stiles.”

“Isaac.”

Stiles nods and takes a bite of the apple. “You don't seem like the lumberjack type.”

Isaac shrugs. “Derek took me in.”

“Derek. Ah, the days when he used to be _just_ Derek.”

Isaac blinks and Stiles takes it as a plea to continue.

“I've been around a lot longer than most of you have—you humans, and the Hale pack too. I remember when Derek was just a kid, running everywhere and a totally wacko.”

Isaac breaks into a grin, because it's such a very different idea from the Derek he knows now. But sometimes, there's a flicker of times of old, and Isaac has always been curious.

“I use to give him apples all the time, and I convinced him, once, that making apples into pie was murder in the supernatural world.”

Isaac chokes. “You _did_?”

“He cried and his mother congratulated me.” Stiles beams, snapping his fingers again and tossing the apple he conjures to Isaac. “Try it, you won't find anything else like it.”

Isaac's teeth sink easily into the apple, but are also accompanied by a satisfying crunch; juice spills into his mouth and his tongue laps against the unique texture of inner apple. He nods, crunching on the large bite. Stiles looks pleased.

“Will you come back? I know Derek can run a strict schedule..” Stiles gets a lost look in his eye, sad and forlorn. “Company would be nice.”

Isaac smiles, swallowing his bite of apple. “Sure.”

Stiles leans forward and tugs Isaac in. “Thanks. Tell Derek I said hi.” And Isaac is left with nothing but a kiss that tastes like fresh apple pie, and the scent of grass in little gusts around him. He swings his ax over his shoulder, feeling oddly empowered, and savors the apple Stiles gave him until he's back on Hale land.


End file.
